A blog about the shadowy world of law enforcement informants with particular focus on the story of Michigan prison inmate "White Boy Rick" Richard Wershe, Jr. His amazing story compels us to look at many aspects of this underworld of the criminal underworld.

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Sunday, July 26, 2015

Arthur
Dale Derrick is an important figure in the saga of White Boy Rick—Richard,
Wershe Jr. As Rick himself has said, “Art was a big piece of the story.”
Derrick, a “weight man” or wholesaler, helped Rick get started in his doomed
effort to become a big-time drug dealer. Derrick came up with the name White
Boy Rick as was explained in last week’s blog post. Derrick was the kind of
drug dealer Rick Wershe, Jr. dreamed of becoming. Yet in the end, he got off
easy compared to his young customer. Here’s the story.

You have seen them countless times but have you ever
given any thought to the various sculptures known as Lady Justice? She’s the
woman in an ancient robe with a set of scales in one hand and frequently a
sword in the other. Sometimes she’s wearing a blindfold, sometimes not. The one
constant is the set of scales. They represent the very foundation of
justice—the all-important quest to weigh evidence and testimony to determine
what is true and what isn’t.

Lady Justice

The scales held by Lady Justice also signify balance, a
weighing of interests. Law ‘n’ order advocates like to say ‘let the punishment
fit the crime.’ Well, okay. Let’s go with that. If we honestly apply that
standard, Rick Wershe should be released from prison immediately. He has more
than done his time, especially when compared to others in the criminal justice
system that have done far worse and served far less time.

In the law there is a concept called proportionality.
Essentially it means let the punishment fit the crime. The Michigan Supreme
Court ruled Michigan’s mandatory life law for non-violent but significant drug
dealing failed the proportionality test. Inmates convicted under that law were
paroled, except for one: Richard Wershe Jr. Someone needs to be held
accountable—now—today—for the severity of the continuing punishment of Richard
Wershe, Jr. as compared with others convicted under the narcotics laws.

Last week, Informant
America explained that Richard Wershe, Jr. was given the nickname White Boy
Rick by the late Arthur Dale Derrick, a true drug kingpin. Derrick succumbed to
the lure of prescription pills and cocaine and died of poor health in 2005.

Art Derrick (Obituary photo)

Art Derrick was a white suburbanite with cocaine
connections in Miami and a small fleet of aircraft to transport kilos of coke.
In the 1980s, Art Derrick was probably the biggest “weight man”—cocaine
wholesaler—in the Detroit market. His clients included Detroit’s biggest inner
city dope dealers of that era.

The previous Informant
America post quoted from a sworn statement by Derrick about how he and his
partner decided to call Richard Wershe, Jr. “White Boy” or “White Boy Rick” to
differentiate him from another customer also named Rick. The other Rick was
black and drove a Maserati. Derrick and his partner referred to him as Maserati
Rick.

Who was Derrick’s partner? His name was Sam Curry. Samuel
Mack Curry. He was an older black man who was the father of the infamous Curry
Brothers—the gang Rick Wershe spied on and informed on for the FBI beginning at
age 14. Apparently the Curry Brothers learned the illegal drug trade at their
father’s knee. And Rick Wershe met Art Derrick when he was running with the
Curry Brothers and partying with Detroit’s A-List of dope dealers.

The Art Derrick/Sam Curry partnership was a good one
while it lasted. Art Derrick had the Colombian supply line connections. Sam
Curry knew all the black players in the Detroit drug trade. Art Derrick could
import it and Sam Curry could move it. Their customers included Detroit drug
gangsta legends like the aforementioned Maserati Rick, the Curry Brothers, Demetrius
Holloway and the legendary—in criminal circles—Chambers Brothers. By some
estimates Art Derrick was raking in $100 thousand a day.

“Art was pumpin’,” Rick Wershe told an interviewer in a
phone interview from prison several years ago. “(In the 1980s) He was movin’
more weight than anybody.” Wershe admired and envied Derrick’s “toys,” which
included a private jet Rick once described as parked in the ghetto. He meant
the plane was sometimes at Detroit City Airport, about half a mile from where
Rick grew up. Wershe was in awe. “(We would) jump on the jet; go to Vegas, go
to Miami.”

Among Art Derrick’s best customers were the Chambers
Brothers. They were a dirt-poor family from the rural dirt roads of Marianna,
Arkansas. They moved to Detroit and hit it big-time in the dope trade, raking
in an estimated $55 million a year slinging dope. Billy Joe Chambers—BJ—and his
brother Larry, the leaders of the Chambers Brothers organization, were so naturally
and instinctively good at sales and marketing they probably could have been major
successes in legitimate business if their lives had gone down that road.

Author William M. Adler interviewed Art Derrick for Land of Opportunity, a well-researched
and critically-acclaimed1995 book about the Chambers Brothers.

Adler described Derrick as portly—bloated with a
pock-marked face, droopy moustache and graying pompadour—“he looked like the guy on the next stool at the shot-and-beer joint.”

In his interview with Adler and in other statements,
Derrick described how he was working long hours in a store he owned and how he
began messing with prescription drugs. “I
was using a lot of pills,” Derrick told Adler. Court documents support
this.

Through a routine diversion unit audit of a pharmacy, the
DEA became aware of Art’s connection to illegal prescription drugs. The
investigation showed a lot of pill prescriptions by an osteopath named Richard
Tapert. The doctor was indicted by a federal grand jury and convicted. Court
documents indicate a cocaine-for-pills arrangement between Tapert and Derrick.

During the mid-80s Art Derrick was helping the Chambers
Brothers become “kingpins” and “drug lords”—the kind of terms the police and
media used to describe Richard Wershe, Jr. or White Boy Rick. Because Rick
Wershe knew and hung around with this crowd, he was painted or tarred with the
same brush. It wasn’t true but no one noticed or cared.

The Chambers Brothers, however, were the real deal. In
his conversation with author Adler Derrick remarked about the rise of the
Chambers Brothers.

“They
(BJ and crew) had a big engine, but an engine doesn’t work without fuel.”
Derrick went on: “I’m the guy who fueled ‘em.”

Derrick described it to Adler as a team effort and lauded
Billy Joe Chambers’ skills at selling cocaine. “The guy could move dope like no one I ever saw,” Derrick said
admiringly.

Art Derrick was eventually busted by the DEA and charged
with CCE—operating a Continuing Criminal Enterprise. This federal law is known
as the “kingpin statute.” It is the crime law the Justice Department uses to
prosecute true “kingpins” and “drug lords.” They never charged Richard Wershe,
Jr.—White Boy Rick—with operating a Continuing Criminal Enterprise. In fact,
the federal government never charged Rick Wershe at all.

Derrick was convicted and served six years of a 10-year
sentence for being a “drug kingpin.” Richard Wershe, Jr., who was once
briefly an Art Derrick customer, who tried but failed to become a “kingpin”,
has been in prison for 27 years—and counting.

So much for the scales of Lady Justice.

***Correction: There were TWO Sam Currys, both black, both older, both involved in the dope trade on Detroit's East Side in the same time period. For a detailed explanation please see the next blog post, A Tale of Two Sams and a Court Ruling.

Sunday, July 19, 2015

This
weekend Richard Wershe, Jr. observed another birthday in prison as part of a life
sentence for non-violent drug dealing. One reason he may remain behind bars is his outsized reputation as a dope dealer, aided in no small part by his
nickname White Boy Rick. This is the story of that nickname.

Rick Wershe turned 46 yesterday. He spent his birthday as
he has every birthday since 1988—behind bars, serving a life sentence the
politicians and judges are reluctant to reduce. After all this is White Boy Rick. With a street hood
nickname like that he must have done something
bad.

Well, yes and no. Yes, he tried—but failed—to become a
big-time dope dealer. But he was never involved in the deadly violence we
associate with cocaine trafficking. What he did was help the FBI and Detroit
Police, beginning at age 14, bring down a major drug gang, and later, he helped
the FBI prosecute a dozen or so crooked cops. THAT is the likely reason he remains in prison
long after the Michigan Supreme Court struck down the mandatory-life drug law
he was convicted under as unconstitutional. He informed on dirty cops with
political connections.

But! But! He was WHITE BOY RICK! How did he get that
nickname that the Detroit media loved to use over and over when he was arrested
and prosecuted? Isn’t that what he was called by the drug dealers he consorted
with and informed on? Doesn't that prove he was a major badass? No. As reported earlier by Informant America he was known among the Curry Brothers and their
co-conspirators simply as Ricky. Ricky from the ‘hood.

There has been a lot of speculation about the White Boy
Rick nickname and where it came from, most of it wrong. This post is about how Richard J. Wershe, Jr.
came to be known as White Boy Rick.

A now-deceased major dope dealer named Arthur Dale “Art”
Derrick claimed under oath in 2003 that he and his business partner came up
with the name White Boy Rick for Richard Wershe, Jr. for a very pragmatic
reason, which we will get to in a moment. First, here’s some background about this
guy.

In the mid to late 80s, Art Derrick was one of the
biggest Detroit dope dealers you never heard of. Derrick was white. He lived in
luxury in a walled residential compound in what he described as the most
expensive home in Harper Woods, one of Detroit’s northern suburbs.

By his own admission Derrick had lots of the “toys”
typically associated with big-time drug dealers. He had a fleet of Corvettes.
He had four airplanes including a four-engine private jet.

Art Derrick was a high level cocaine wholesaler but he was never in the headlines. He was a
key source of supply for Detroit’s big-time cocaine dealers.Derrick had
connections in Miami and he could fly loads of dope to Detroit on his private
aircraft. He once filed a lawsuit against the City of Detroit because police
narcs had seized $181,310.94 in cash from him. Derrick argued unsuccessfully
that Michigan’s drug forfeiture statue didn’t allow such a seizure. Derrick
says at the time he was arrested by DEA agents his net worth was about four
million dollars.

When Rick Wershe set out on his ill-fated quest to become
a big dope dealer, one of his mentors, according to Art Derrick, was himself.
He claims he helped Rick Wershe get started. Rick agrees he did some dope
business early-on with Derrick but he disputes how instrumental Art was in
helping him, particularly with major connections in Miami.

Regardless, the young white kid’s name—Rick—was a problem
for Derrick and his partner because they had another “Rick” as a major customer;
Rick Carter, who was black. They found it confusing to talk about dope deals
with “Rick.” Which Rick?

Art Derrick claims he solved the problem by referring to
the black Rick as Maserati Rick, because of the car the black guy drove. Sometimes
he was called “Maz” for short. Derrick and his partner referred to the white
kid dope dealer wannabe from Detroit’s East side as “White Boy” or “White Boy Rick.”

Maserati Rick became the major drug dealer that White Boy
Rick hoped to be but never was. Rick Carter met a violent end as so many inner
city dope dealers do. But he went out in style. He was buried in a casket
fashioned to look like a Mercedes Benz.

Maserati Rick Carter in repose. Detroit Free Press photo

Derrick believed the narcs picked up the White Boy Rick
nickname from him when they heard him using it. The police love to call
criminals by their street names. It adds some cred to their work as guardians of the street. Fawning Detroit
reporters who depend on tips and leaks from the cops for their jobs were, in turn, only too happy to use the name.Their editors
loved it, as well. It made for great headlines. But it conjured a persona that didn’t
exist in reality.

Today, most Detroiters couldn’t tell you who Richard Wershe,
Jr. is. But many still remember the name White Boy Rick. So do judges,
politicians and members of the Michigan Parole Board. The nickname has damaged Richard Wershe, Jr.'s reputation for years and it has helped keep him in prison.

Art Derrick was indicted by a federal grand jury and
convicted in 1989 for operating a Continuing Criminal Enterprise, the federal
law known as the “kingpin” statute because it is used against top-tier drug
traffickers. He was also charged with tax evasion. Rick Wershe, allegedly a "kingpin", was never
charged under the kingpin statute. Derrick served six years of a 10-year
federal sentence for being a major drug trafficker.

Derrick was also convicted in a drug case in Macomb
County. He was sentenced to five-to-20 years, to be served concurrently with
the federal conviction.

Art Derrick was far, far bigger in the Detroit dope scene
than Rick Wershe ever was. He did six years while Rick Wershe has now been in
prison 27 years. But then, Art Derrick never helped the FBI prosecute corrupt
Detroit cops with political friends with the power to carry on an imprisonment
vendetta.

CORRECTIONS:

In last week’s blog post I mistakenly used pounds for
kilos in describing the case against Rick Wershe. The post said his case
involved 8 pounds. It was 8 kilos, which is 17.6 pounds.

Also, a previous post said Rick Wershe acted for a time
as a mule, a drug courier for the Curry Brothers drug organization while he was
working undercover for the Detroit federal drug task force. Wershe says this is
not true. He says he never transported drugs for the Curry Brothers.

Sunday, July 5, 2015

Did you enjoy your 4th of July holiday
weekend? Did you have fun? Did you attend a picnic? Did you kick back with a
barbecue and some cold beer with family and friends? Did you go to the beach or
the lake for a little R&R? When the sun went down did you put a blanket on
the lawn of the local park and watch the fireworks display?

Rick Wershe didn’t do any of that. He couldn’t. For him,
Independence Day was just another day of his life prison sentence for dealing
drugs. Over the years he’s helped the FBI send drug dealers to jail, he’s
helped thwart a Mafia murder plot and he helped put a dozen corrupt cops in
prison, but somehow that doesn’t count in Michigan’s politicized parole system.
Wershe informed on politically-connected people, so he’s been in prison far
longer than major drug dealers and hitmen. There is a vendetta against him,
plain and simple.

Richard J. Wershe, Jr. - MDOC Photo

For Rick Wershe, Fourth of July recreation was limited
time in “the yard” with other inmates at the Oaks Correctional Facility in
Manistee, Michigan. For Inmate 192034 the Fourth of July was just another day
in prison—he’s been behind bars his entire adult life.

Since March this blog has been exploring the legend of “White
Boy Rick”, the media’s favorite alias for Richard J. Wershe, Jr. This week’s
post will take a “holiday” view of his tragic case.

First, let’s review yet again.

At age 14, Rick Wershe was recruited by the Detroit FBI
to spy on the Johnny Curry drug gang on the city’s east side. Rick’s late always-on-the-edge
father was a paid FBI informant. Through Richard J. Wershe Sr. the FBI found
out Richard J. Wershe Jr. was known and trusted by the Curry brothers and their
henchmen because he was just Ricky, a white kid from the racially mixed ‘hood.

The FBI wanted to bring down the Curry organization
because Johnny Curry was married to Cathy Volsan, the favorite niece of
then-mayor Coleman Young, a perennial FBI target of investigation. The hope was
that if he was facing long prison time, Johnny Curry might rat out the mayor
about…something.

So a federal drug task force of agents from the FBI, DEA
and a small detail of Detroit police officers taught young Rick Wershe the ways
of dope dealing. Yep. Law enforcement taught him how to be a drug dealer. The
Detroit cops, always in a buy-bust mind frame, had Rick Wershe Jr. make
numerous drug buys with law enforcement money. While there wasn’t any FBI rule
or regulation back then about using juveniles as informants in criminal cases,
the agents knew it was a highly questionable thing to do, so they put informant
information from Richard Wershe Jr. in the informant file for Richard Wershe
Sr. They had the same names except for senior and junior, a very convenient cover
for info from a kid they were paying to be a mole in a drug gang.

Ricky, as he was known to the Currys, proved valuable in
the early stages of the Curry drug case. He provided good information. His most
important tip was that he was at a meeting in which the Curry gang discussed
how to finesse their role in the accidental murder of a 13-year old boy. The Curry
group shot up a house to intimidate the owner over money he owed them. The man’s
nephews were in the house at the time and one of them caught a bullet in his
chest and died.

The Currys feared homicide investigators would question
them. There was nothing to fear. Someone high up in the Detroit Police
Department pushed the investigation away from the Currys and toward an innocent
man. Sending an innocent man to prison for murder was less important to the
police department than protecting the mayor’s niece because her husband’s drug
gang had killed a little boy.

When the FBI got authorization to use wiretaps against
the Currys Rick Wershe’s info became less important. After putting Rick in the
criminal underworld, they dropped him. If anyone in the U.S. Attorney’s office,
the Detroit FBI, the Detroit DEA or the Detroit Police Department ever gave any
thought to helping or getting counseling for the kid they lured in to a life of
crime to help them make a big case, there’s no evidence of it.

Rick Wershe Jr. came from a dysfunctional family and
mostly raised himself. He had nowhere to turn, no one to guide him back to the
life of an average teenager. He had dropped out of school. He did the only thing
he knew how to do, the life the cops had taught him to live—he tried to become
a dope dealer.

He failed. Oh, sure, he managed to act as a middleman cocaine
wholesaler for a while but a team of DEA agents and Detroit cops, wallowing in
the media glory of being the “No Crack Crew”, teamed with the Detroit Police
gang squad to bust Richard Wershe, Jr. who came to be known as White Boy Rick
for his youth and the color of his skin in a mostly-black criminal underworld.

Gullible and/or lazy Detroit reporters were only too happy to call him a “drug
lord” and a “kingpin” without ever asking for the evidence to support such a
reputation. No one in the media ever stopped to ask how a freckle-faced white
kid who was not yet 18 could possibly be a top-echelon drug trafficker in a
mostly black, mostly adult racket. But hey. It made for great headlines.

Here’s the truth based on extensive review of official
paperwork: there is NO evidence, NONE, to support the claim that Richard J.
Wershe, Jr. was ever a major dope dealer. Prosecutors, judges, uniformed city
officials and political hacks on the Michigan Parole Board can huff and puff
about Rick Wershe all they wish. There is NO evidence to support the
accusations that Wershe was ever a major drug dealer.

He’s doing life because
he ratted on the wrong people—a politically-connected drug dealer and cops who
were on the take from drug pushers, including one cop who was a local celebrity
because he had been in a movie with Eddie Murphy. The Detroit political and
criminal justice establishment has vowed to keep Rick Wershe in prison until he
dies for telling the FBI the truth about some of their own.

It is commonplace for cops to go to bat for their
informants because without them they wouldn’t make many cases. This includes
the FBI. The criminal justice system relies on informants and “cooperating
witnesses” far more than the public knows.

Intercession by law enforcement for someone who helped
them didn’t happen in Rick Wershe’s case. The Feds let him twist in the wind in
his local drug case. To do otherwise, to help their teen informant when he got
in a jam, would be to admit they had recruited a 14-year old as a paid
informant against a violent drug gang. Instead, they sat on their hands, they
kept their mouths shut and they let Richard Wershe Jr. get convicted. In 1988,
it was a life prison sentence under Michigan law.

The Michigan Supreme Court eventually struck down the law
Wershe was convicted under as cruel and unusual punishment. Since then all of
the drug dealers convicted under that law have been released from prison. All
except one. Richard J. Wershe Jr.

One idiot who has fought against parole for Rick Wershe
makes the claim that Wershe’s friends are all criminals. Well, duh! You dimwit!
He’s been in prison he entire adult life. With few exceptions the only people he
knows are other criminals. Since age 18 he’s never had the chance to mingle
with anyone other than convicted criminals.

It is this kind of breathtaking stupidity that makes the
Wershe case so frustrating. It’s true he’s done some dumb things, things that
are against his own self-interest. But he’s paid the price for his bad
decisions for years and years. They say justice delayed is justice denied.
Richard J. Wershe, Jr. has been denied justice for a long, long time.

If you enjoyed your Independence Day festivities,
congratulations. Rick Wershe didn’t have the chance to do that.

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About Me

My name is Vince Wade. I am an independent/freelance investigative reporter, writer, narrator, multimedia producer and director.
I live near the beach in a city outside Los Angeles.
I started in radio news but I spent most of my career at network-affiliated TV stations in Detroit, Michigan where I covered crime, the courts, public corruption and various scandals. I’ve won over 20 awards including three Emmys, 1st Place for TV News documentary at the New York International Film Festival, plus wire service reporting awards and others.
I work on topics and projects that interest me and stories that need to be told.